Postmortem
by babyhilts
Summary: The world of Supernatural isn't finished with Leah Carlson. Since her accident things have gone from bad to worse and when a certain Winchester leaves a panicked voice message on her cell she is thrust into the dangers once again.!Sequel to Crash Course!
1. Prologue

**A/N:** Here's the first bit of the sequel to Crash Course. This is the prologue and although it may not seem like it this will be important later on. So pay attention! Anyway, enjoy and I'll upload the first chapter after I get a couple of reviews! Nudge nudge.

**Disclaimer:** Don't sue cause I don't own nothing!

**_Postmortem_**

**_By: Babyhilts_****_  
_**

Prologue

Leah Carlson handled the check with a delicate, ladylike grip although ladylike was the last thing she was. Month old scarring lay hidden beneath her curled bangs and she sported lovely fist sized bruises on her ribcage that had just recently begun to fade. Pale jeans clung to her wide hips as the ratty sweater hung sloppily off her shoulders. Her hair was a mess of static blonde and deep lines had been etched into her face from lack of sleep and added stress. In all, Leah Carlson did not look like a lady; she didn't look like much of anything for that matter.

A tightly forced smile curled her lips. The waitress who'd served her was currently twirling a manicured finger around her luscious red locks. Black, patent leather heels that only a loon with a slim figure and no brains adorned her feet. Leah knew from past experience that serving the general public and standing up all day while doing it was killer on the feet but alas, there she was. The carrot toped freak, in all her glory was probably fighting off a foot cramp.

Girlish giggles sauntered through the thick, deep fried air. Leah forgot her ladylike grip and began to clench a pale fist around the bill. She glared daggers at the waitress who instead of doing her job and taking her money was too busy pushing her breasts into full view of her boys. A bored sigh fell from her lips. The Winchester brothers weren't exactly her boys but they'd been the only thing she'd had since the accident over a month earlier. Ever since she'd crashed her Jetta off a Vancouver back road and wound up somewhere in Texas she'd been by their side. Dean leaned over the ceramic table and gave the redhead another flirtatious grin. Leah caught the gesture and as a result began to loose her patience. The beaten old tennis, tap, tap, tapped against the hard linoleum echoing her displeasure. She looked the two young men up and down and cursed their existence.

Earlier that afternoon it had taken nearly everything they had to drag her from the small, residential house in Lawrence Kansas. The two of them had gone off to God knows where for a month and then just as suddenly as they'd disappeared had shown up on Missouri's doorstep. Duffel bags barely out of their trunk, they'd begged for her to jump into the '67 Chevy and go out with them. In all truth it had been Sam Winchester who'd done most of the begging, the reason being Leah hadn't been on speaking terms with Dean.

The blonde woman looked to the booth where her companions still sat. She'd missed them, that fact was certain. How could she not miss them? They were her only friends in this strange new place. Missouri Mosley was the only other person she knew and she was more of a mother figure if anything else. Leah felt her blood boil. Dean touched Little Miss Red's arm and ran his fingers up and down, along her porcelain skin. With that one gesture the feelings the blonde had been harboring during their absence returned. They hadn't ever truly disappeared. She cared for the men but so desperately hated them as well. Had it not been for their bullheadedness she'd still be alive. She'd be able to be back in Canada with Caitlin and everything she'd held dear to her. Were it not for the Winchesters and their need to fight all that is evil then she would still have her old life back. The life she wanted. Not this new one where all she did was stay cooped up in Lawrence with an old psychic.

"Sorry, about that. Cash or credit?"

Leah snapped to attention. Whirling around on her heels, she faced the counter and the bimbo in heels. Her glossy lips smirked knowingly at Leah and it took all she had not to jump over the counter and knock her on her ass. Instead the fight inside her died quickly and she threw the crumpled check onto the counter along with a few bills.

The waitress quickly went about wiping the money off the counter and into her cash register. Leah glanced away for a moment, watching while Sam finished off the rest of his coffee and Dean shrugged his leather jacket back into place. At the far back of the restaurant a man caught her attention. This wasn't unusual for Leah, but something about this one man put her on guard. He wore a navy blue baseball cap and a dark jean jacket. The collar was turned upward, shadowing part of his face, while the hat did the rest. Overall he generated a feeling of uncertainty and unease. Some would think a man hiding behind a baseball cap, in the back of a restaurant was mysterious and sexy; a complete turn on. For Leah it just reminded her of some sleazy peeping Tom.

"Here's your change. Miss?"

Leah focused on the waitress and snatched the remaining money from her open palm, dropping it carelessly into her jeans pocket. The usual bowl of mints and toothpicks that sat beside the register was just too tempting. Taking a couple from both bowls, Leah dropped the extra few into her other pocket before popping a round, spearmint flavored candy into her mouth. She tongued the circular object and sucked happily on the dripping taste of mint. Her attention once again fell on the man in the corner. It was just as her eyes landed on him that he raised his head. A set of piercing, brown orbs landed on her. It was hard to make out any distinguishing features from her position but she knew he was young. He was scared too. It was evident in the way he looked at her and then just as quickly turned away, back to the newspaper on his table. All he had next to him was a glass of sodapop.

Leah stepped away from the counter, towards the booth the Winchesters still occupied. A scuffle could be heard from off to her right. She ignored the sound at first but as the sound of shattering glass echoed through the bustling diner, Leah's curiosity got the better of her.

"I'm not waiting another day. I want my money and if you ain't gonna pay up, I have ways of evening out the score."

Two men in their mid thirty seemed to be in some sort of fight. The shorter of the two had knocked his chair over and his face had taken on a panicked expression. The one who happened to be doing most of the yelling kicked his own chair back. It rattled off the floor bringing only more attention to the two of them. Leah bit her lip; stepping away from the scene and glancing uncertainly back to her table. Dean looked deep in thought but Sam seemed to understand and slipped out of the booth. In the same moment that the lanky man began to stand, Dean shouted a warning and hit the ground, pulling his younger brother down by the legs. Leah turned to the men and saw a flash of metal before the familiar sound of a gun going off broke through the building.

Her world flipped upside down as her legs folded in and sent her tumbling to the floor. The waitress from before screamed and more shuffling sounded. Something was biting into Leah's stomach and it was then she noticed the red stain on her shirt and how lightheaded she was suddenly feeling.  
Rushed footsteps made their way towards her. The man in the cap, shadowed in all that mystery kneeled next to her. With a nervous glance over his shoulder he lifted the bottom of her top to reveal the small bullet wound. Blood was everywhere, pooling about them onto the cold linoleum. Leah held back the tears and thought bitterly of dying with this complete stranger with the smell of French fries and greasy burgers all around her.

"Just relax okay?"

Leah looked upwards, eyes caught once again with the strangers. He smiled reassuringly and laid a warm hand over the bullet hole. The pressure was placed and she cried out in spite of it. He shushed her and more blood escaped onto the floor. Her cries turned to whimpers and her vision swam. A voice was calling her back, away from the impending black and she felt a cold rush flowing through her veins. The t-shirt she wore was tugged back in place and the stranger was moving too fast for her to process.

"You tripped" he whispered and reached for something off a nearby table. "You were startled by the shot and tripped. Knocked over a bottle of ketchup and spilt it on yourself."

The red condiment bottle lay next to her hip and she suddenly realized that a handful of it had been dumped onto her lap. She looked up to the man with the hat, confusion written in her eyes but he said nothing. People were beginning to stir from their seats to inspect the damage. Sam and Dean were moving towards her and the stranger, the man who for some reason had laid his hands upon her wound, was now getting to his feet. By the time Dean had reached her side the young stranger had disappeared out the front door.

"Leah, you okay?"

The woman nodded and brushed off the helping set of hands.

"Tripped" she said in a daze. "Spilt the ketchup on me."

Cautiously she rose to her feet, taking notice of the now missing gunmen. Dean looked her over once more and seemed to approve of her condition before motioning for her and Sam to follow him outside. The best place for the three of them was not in a diner about to be overrun with cops.  
Leah fell back a few paces behind the Winchesters. A shaky hand fell across her t-shirt, lifting the material off her stomach until her index finger located the small hole. She moved it through the tear a few times for good measure. After a bit more hesitation, she raised the shirt a few inches from her waist and lowered her head, expecting to find the bullet hole and yet, there was nothing. Nothing save for the eerie white hand print now tattooed across her stomach. She'd just been shot and somehow that man had just saved her life.


	2. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** _Wow! So many reviews for the first chappie. Thanks guys that means a lot. I love all of you reviewers even the ones who don't review but favourite me. You people know who you are. You lil sneakers I love you too!_

**Anyway, **_most of you pointed out the Roswell steal. I prefer borrow but meh. The guy in the diner isn't Max first off, just some guy right now but if you want to picture the guy as the one who played man then feel free. This isn't going to be a crossover either. Still fully Supernatural just the diner scene will come back later on and a few ideas will be based on Roswell. But anywho. Enjoy and keep reviewing._

**Disclaimer: I don't own a thing  
**

**_Post Mortem_**

**By: Babyhils  
**

**Chapter 1:**

I didn't hear you leave

I wonder how am I still here?  
I don't wanna move a thing  
It might change my memory  
Oh I am what I am  
I'll do what I want  
But I…can't hide  
I won't go  
I won't sleep  
I can't breathe  
Until you're resting here with me

---Here with Me **By: Dido**

**….8 months since Crash Course…**

The light weight jeep with the thin tarp of a roof shook from the bombardment of clustered snow. Little balls of white furry pounded the brittle vehicle, rocking the piece of tin from side to side as it raced along the slick highway. A radio crackled with the sound of white noise as it had been doing for the past hour. Leah Carlson tightened her grip about the leather wheel, doing her best to keep the car in a straight line. Without winter tires it was damn near impossible, especially since the driving conditions weren't the most amiable. The young woman grunted her displeasure as the tires treaded a particular bad part of the asphalt and swung her into the next lane. Another curse and she was turning the wheel in a panic towards the right. Slowly, hesitantly the little car obliged to the command and she was driving safely once again.

Deep grunts sounded from the back seat. Harsh blue eyes turned up to the rearview mirror where the hulking mass of black shag stared back at her. Two sets of green orbs watched her before turning their attention to the passenger side. It didn't take a genius to understand what he was asking of her. With a sigh and a quick nod she turned on her signal light and pulled the vehicle off the highway. Once on the shoulder, she moved herself as far back into the driver side door and called him to take a seat next to her.

"Well, come on now I don't have all night. I'd like to get to our hotel before dawn breaks."

The beady eyes glared at her from behind the set of dark bangs. Long sturdy legs reached awkwardly across the seats. The wide body wedged itself through the driver and passenger seats. Soft, raven hair shed from his coat and onto the floor as he continued to pull himself through. Eventually he succeeded and with a snort of finality, he sat up straight in the seat next to the young woman. He threw a quick glance and turned to the road with a sense of excitement that hadn't been there an hour before. Leah could only smirk at her new companion.

The black haired Newfoundlander dog was certainly one for the books. A month earlier she'd been working a gig just outside of Kansas. Nothing too big; just your regular salt and burn. The only problem was that before she'd reached the farm house the owner –a man in his mid fifties- had suffered an unfortunate fatality. Seems the spirit had been more dangerous than she'd first assumed. When the job was finished she realized she didn't have the heart to abandon the man's best friend, so as a sort of payment she took him in. Adopted the old bugger as her own.

"One minute big fella" Leah shushed the gentle giant with a hurried wave of her hand

Nerves fried and mind completely bent out of shape, Leah let loose a great sigh. She pried her left hand off the leather steering wheel and sunk her body far into the upholstery.

Charlie watched, pink tongue lapping at thick threads of hot drool; bottom jowl dangling beneath the filtering in of the doggy liquid. Deep slurp! slurp! sounds resonated from the dog's mouth. Leah pinched her face up, repulsed by the noise and the rogue drops of spit that hit her every time his tongue slapped the front side of his nose. The Newfie stopped mid slurp and stared at the young woman. If dogs could smile then this one was doing just that. The corner of his black lips turned upwards in the corner, silky whiskers curling along with the gesture. Charlie shot her a look that seemed to say 'What do you expect, I'm a dog' before easing the large tongue out of his mouth once again and slapping away the newly gathered slobber.

"Fine" Leah huffed, sitting forward in her seat and shooting her hairy companion a dirty glare. "Be an asshole. See if I care."

The grin remained. He cocked his head as if to mock the young blonde driver. Just for good measure he licked his snout, gathering the snot and drool as one and smacking it upwards sending a shower of unholy liquid onto the seats and her favorite pair of jeans. Human and dog stared off, daring the other to make a move. Charlie sniffed viciously at the air, sucking in a rough all nasal breath. Leah snorted.

"Man's best friend my ass."

Reaching across the dash she picked up the 9mm Beretta tucked in the corner against the glass. She cupped it fondly in her hands, running thin fingers along the trigger and stopping when she reached the handle.

"You know" she began, aiming the gun playfully at the dog. "I could always just shoot you. Be one last mouth to feed."

Charlie huffed, blowing the bangs away from his eyes for just a split second. Finished taking in the doggy dribble, he made an almost human like shrug at the woman's threat before turning his attention to the windshield. The wipers were struggling to sweep away the gathered ice and snow. His eyes focused on the highway, narrowing when the headlights of a passing transport appeared over the far hill. The dark Berretta weighed heavily in Leah's palm. She turned the weapon over a few times, remembering when she'd first purchased it two months ago. Break-ins had become the sudden "It thing" in Lawrence, Kansas and she had refused to stay in the suburban home with Missouri unless she had a gun. The older woman had brushed off Leah's warning, telling her to pay not attention to it. That they were only kids having fun but she'd gone against the psychics words and purchased the gun the very next day.

Black metal glinted in the pale moonlight as it slid back into place on the dash. In-between the passenger and drivers seats her leather bound journal sat, quiet and untouched for hours. It was bound in a maroon jacket; the contents inside filled with chicken scratch and ghoulish articles describing violent deaths and unsolved mysteries. The pages read something like a horror story but it was all true. She knew all too well how real those things were. She'd borrowed the idea from John's journal and had given it her own subtle touch.

Atop the journal, glowing neon in the suffocating black was her cell phone. The time flashed across the screen, telling her she should be in bed instead on the road to Colorado. She scooped the delicate piece of technology into her hands, knowing she had a few more hours ahead of her before she reached her destination. Leah pressed one of the buttons and the screen lit up, casting her in a harsh yellow light. Charlie snuck a peak from his lookout, knowing full well what she was doing. She had done it twice already and each time it seemed to have not sustained her anymore than the last. The woman caught the dog's inspective gaze and flinched.

"Just one more time. I have to hear it one last time."

The black mass grunted disapprovingly and ignored her defense, returning to his previous problem of scanning the highway.

Blue print flashed along the small screen. The words Inbox and Saved Message drowned beneath the rush of quick fingers. Buttons clicked and beeped throughout the car. A number Leah knew backwards and forwards came on. She ran a finger across one more button and lifted the receiver to her ear, telling herself this would be the last time she listened to it.

"Hey Leah, it's Sam. I know we haven't been on the best of terms for a while. Dean and I stopped by for the funeral, we were going to pick you up but when we got there we found out you'd already moved on. Look I just hope you get this…I…Dean left a week ago. He was working a gig in Colorado. Missing kids, you know our kinda stuff…I haven't heard from him in two days…It's not like him…I'm going tomorrow to find out what happened…please…I don't want to do this on my own…Leah…I…we need you here…"

The message cut out at that point. Sam had sent it a day earlier. She'd been hesitant to jump at his wish, only because he had been right. After the accident back in Stull things hadn't been the same between her and the two brothers. When they'd left her behind for a month the gap had only widened and soon after their quick visit in Lawrence they'd left. Afterwards it had been by phone that she talked to them. Dean didn't say much and whatever Sam said came out awkward and forced. Two more months passed and they stopped talking all together. She'd begun to focus on her own life for a change which just so happened to turn into their way of life. Hunting the Supernatural and looking good while doing it. This message now had been the first contact she had with either of the brothers in months.

Leah folded the phone and tossed it to the backseat in hopes of deterring her from listening to the message at a later time. She knew it by heart anyway and listening to it once more wasn't going to get her to Colorado any faster.

The jeep pulled back onto the icy blacktop, easing forward at a snails pace. Images of weeks earlier, when things were still a bit simpler surfaced in her mind. Times when she'd helped Missouri bake a fresh batch of homemade sweets. Or even having a warm, dry place to sleep for the night. She'd taken it all for granted. Foolishly she'd left the psychic and her new home behind and had run off to Vancouver in hopes of finding some kind of home there. Missouri hadn't objected but there'd been a look of hurt welled up in those brown eyes. In Vancouver things weren't the same at all. Of course they weren't supposed to be and the psychic had warned her about getting her hopes up. Things still looked the same, the apartment she'd lived in was still there but it looked more take care of, not rundown like she remembered. The local directory hadn't any address for her sister or her husband and when she'd tried to track down any of her close family nothing had turned up. It was then that she finally gave in to the reality of the situation. That no matter where she went in this world. Canada. Europe. The United States of America. Everywhere was foreign. Not even her hometown in Ontario would be the same and she didn't have to take a flight down there too to realize that. With a heavy heart, Leah had flown back to Kansas but home wasn't there when she'd returned. Like everything else it had been stolen from her.

Charlie's incessant barking shattered the girl's pity party and brought her attention back to the road, where they were moving around as if it were some sort of giant slip and slide. Leah scolded herself for getting caught up in the past. She righted the vehicle quickly, thanking the Newfie with a gentle pat on the back.

"At least you're good for something."

Breaking away from her fear of listening to music and driving in storms, Leah shifted through the white noise before she came across an easy listening station that was playing some Dido. She shrugged and decided to settle for the British singer. Her back eased into the seat and she began to relax into the drive. Only two more hours to go.

"Maybe you should get some rest there big fella" she called to her partner in the adjacent seat.

The dog growled warningly at his companion. He'd obviously had too much of her telling him what to do for one night.

"Or not. Your choice. Just don't expect to be sleeping in till noon like you usually do."

The two of them settled for that and continued to drive in silence for the next couple of hours.

Faded wallpaper and stained bed sheets. The motel was the furthest thing from idyllic. With its ring of scum circling about the ceramic tub. A heavy duvet, littered with holes had been tossed recklessly onto the double bed in the corner. The other seemed to have been made with a bit more care but all in all the room still looked a fright. Charlie padded across the rough carpeting, the pads of his feet mimicking the sound of sandpaper as he walk. As he made his way towards the bathroom, Leah stepped across the threshold and kicked the door shut behind them. The sound was loud but did nothing to break the two out of their familiar habits. This of course was routine for them. The young woman carried the two duffel bags over to her bed in the far corner. Charlie as usual would want the one closest to the door and if he didn't get his way it would be puddles on the carpet and the equivalent of a barking sonata.

Leah tossed the first duffel to the floor, the rattle of guns, knives and small canteens of holy water rattling as they went. She kicked it beneath the oversize duvet cover before opening the second bag. Behind her the sun had barely risen. A few shelves of light broke through the darkened sky but that was it. Her eyes felt heavy and sleep would be so nice at the moment but she knew it would not come. Not immediately anyway.

Pulling out a fresh set of clothes, Leah called out to the shaggy dog to stay in the bathroom. It was too weird for the dark canine to be seizing her up while she changed and fortunately for her, the dog seemed to respect her privacy. Instead of dawdling as she sometimes did, she tugged the jeans on and followed it with a plain navy blue t-shirt. A heaping, grey zip up sweater swallowed her new muscular frame. Her tiny build disappeared beneath the large garment but she didn't care. It was cold as hell outside and she knew from experience living in Northern Ontario in the winter, that it was okay to dress like a hobo, as long as you were warm. The pale blue jacket only added to her padding, rounding her out like a periwinkle marshmallow.

Charlie's barks reverberated through the small bathroom.

"Yeah, come on out. I'm all dressed."

A miserable look shone across the dogs face. He slouched from sleep deprivation but just like her was too stubborn to give in to it. When he noticed her combing back her short locks and the loud, blue coat she now had on, he only seemed to grumpify even more.

"Don't give me that look" Leah threatened. "I'll be back in a few hours with some donuts. I know how you like your carbs."

Charlie grunted, unaffected by her words and leapt onto his bed. He nuzzled the duvet onto the floor and pushed the bed sheets around his large frame until he was cocooned in them.

"Come on. It's not like you're up for a jaunt around town."

Charlie yawned.

"Told you. Just get some rest big guy. We've got a lot of stuff to do and I'll need your help."

Leah gave the loyal pooch one last gentle rub and was off. In one hand she held her keys and in the other a torn piece of paper. The paper had at one time been apart of the local phone; now it was her key to tracking down Dean Winchester. She'd done her research upon first entering the small town. Stopping at a random payphone, she'd ripped each and every page with a motel or hotel, inn or bed and breakfast out of the directory and had called every one of them. Sam had once let her in on a little Winchester secret; that whenever they got separated they'd use a designated name upon signing into the hotel. The most recent of these names had been only a few months earlier and she doubted that it had been change. Also, knowing that the two of them had obviously separated for the hunt, it would be a sure thing that Dean had used the alias they'd decided upon.

As she crossed the cracked pavement, Leah glanced down at the single sheet of paper. Thick, red ink encircled the name Sherwood Motel; her next stop on this man hunt. Her mind was racing by the time she'd backed out of the parking lot. She'd done her research. Dean had booked a room at this motel only five minutes from her own. The problem she was now facing was whether or not he would actually be there when she kicked down the door.

The sun, now fully risen from its long nights rest, warmed the inside of the car. Unfortunately the weather outside the vehicle wasn't so friendly. A bitter chill hung in the air that morning. Every now and then, just for good measure, the wind would blow a cloud of frozen snow into your face.

Sherwood Motel's empty neon lights appeared over a large sign in the distance. Leah fisted her right gloved hand. Her breath came out smoky and cold even inside the jeep. Her toes numb inside the small tennis shoes she unfortunately wore for the trip. She only owned one pair of boots, the suede heels Dean had bought her and they wouldn't come in handy if she was working a hunt. It was just impossible to run in heels. Case closed; end of story. Besides that, they hurt like a bitch after a while.

Anxiety filtered through her system, slowly and painfully making its round throughout her entire body. As a result her fingers twisted tightly around the steering wheel. Her breathing hitched and then picked up to almost a pant. She could feel her heart quicken its pace; pumping enough blood through her veins to make her head feel airy.

The rickety jeep pulled in beside the Chevy Impala. A layer of newly fallen snow covered the sleek black car. Windows frosted on all sides and with no tire marks anywhere near the car, Leah realized that unless Dean had been sleeping for a long, long, time, he hadn't been anywhere near the car. It hadn't moved from its spot.

Reluctant to say the least, Leah pulled the keys from the ignition, pocketed them, grabbed her gun from the seat next to her, pocketed that and exited the car. The shock of the cold, winter air made her moan. If anything, winter was her least favorite season; too much white and not enough warmth.

She made her rounds fast. Once next to the Impala, she chiseled a layer of ice away from the driver's side window. Her fingers clawed for a few minutes before thin pieces of frost chipped off the glass. The two front seats were vacant and from what she could see of the back it was also empty. Nothing important inside the car at all, which was a bit of a let down considering the fact that she had wanted to break into the muscle car and have a look around without Dean's glaring eyes boring into the back of her head. On top of that it would have been a sure thing to set him off. Breaking and entering into his precious vehicle was certainly up there on his "What Never to Do" list.

Leah dragged herself away from the car and towards checkout. This wasn't exactly how she'd imagined spending her day. In all honesty she'd planned on breaking into the Impala for sure and then just busting down the first motel door she laid her eyes on, hoping it was Dean's. Common sense told her these tactics would not bode well with Sherwood or the unfortunate souls who would happen to wake up to her kicking in their door. Inside the main office, Leah helped convince the desk man into answering a few standard questions. The usual, is so and so staying here. If so, then she was his sister who was supposed to meet him in town for their mother's funeral. She'd been given a spare key and unfortunately for her had lost it. At the moment her brother was out picking flower arrangements and so fourth and she needed inside the room to get a few things.

With a bat of her eyes and a forced grin, the key shifted from the old man's sweaty palm into her own. She still wasn't used to lying and using a little of what her mama gave her doing it but it would come to her eventually. At the moment it still felt unsettling and yet, thrilling as hell.  
Upon opening the door to Dean's room, Leah was sent nearly sprawling to the floor unconscious. With a gasp, she covered her mouth, breathing in the smell of the cheap bar soap she'd used to clean her hands an hour or so earlier. The smell that permeated the small living space was almost unbearable. Rotting take-out hung heavy in the air and she cringed as it slowly made its way into each and every one of her pores.

Stealing one last breath of fresh air, Leah closed and locked the motel door. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted the open Styrofoam container. Blood and ghosts she could handle, but she didn't dare step within ten feet of the rotting foot. She knew from the smell alone and the deserted room that Dean had been gone for at least two or three days.

Leah stepped cautiously through the room. More Styrofoam containers littered other areas such as the double bed, a nightstand and a desk pushed into the far corner. Dean sure wasn't much of a clean freak. A pile of his soiled clothes littered the floor in front of the bathroom. His bag of clothes was tucked halfway under the bed and a partly assembled sawed off shotgun rested on the unmade bed. Cleaning tools strewn beside it. He had left in a hurry for whatever reason and hadn't come back.

The blonde reached forward, fingers inches from part of the shotgun. She swallowed the lump in her throat, praying that Dean had just decided not to come back for all his things-Impala included- and had just gone off …somewhere. Of course that wasn't logical and her churning stomach was telling her that.

The scratching of metal shook Leah to full alert. Her right hand flew to the gun tucked into her jeans and drew the weapon before she'd even managed to locate where the sound was coming from. She located it no problem. The doorknob was twitching and more scratching followed suite. Leah rushed to the door, taking up an attack position behind it. Whoever was picking the lock wasn't going to get very far, not with her and her fully loaded gun waiting for them.

She drew in a shaky breath as the knob fell silent and the door was pushed open. The person rose from their bent position to full height. Leah soon became swallowed in the looming shadow. It was obvious from the way the stranger carried himself that it was a man. They cleared their throat- taking in the smell of the room just as she'd done upon first entering the place- and then kicked the door closed behind them.

Leah slowly relinquished her hiding spot. Peeling her back off the wall, she eased forward and behind the dark figure. The darkness of the room still shadowed her from the unsuspecting intruder. Gun held tight in her right hand, Leah stepped directly behind the man and without flinching put all her might into one powerful kick directed at the back of his knee. It worked and sent the stranger crumpling to the floor. His knees folded in and hit the carpet. He was trying to haul himself back up when Leah came back, viciously taking the butt of her gun and slamming it into his cheek. A painful gasp escaped the man's lips before he hit the floor. The woman didn't waste any time. She kicked out once again, this time in the man's chest, pressing him flat against the carpet. Leah stared down the barrel of her gun which she now kept directed at the writhing man. Slowly she moved her foot to the man's neck, arching his head back and keeping him still. She didn't know how to snap a neck but if she put enough pressure she was certain she could strangle him. Good thing she wore the tennis shoes.

The man stopped his struggle and turned his face gently towards her own. It was that small gesture that ruined everything. Up until that moment she'd been expecting a deranged lunatic looking for some quick cash. Your everyday pantyhose wearing freak with a butcher knife. She certainly hadn't been expecting…

"Sam?"

Shaggy bangs fell across the young man's face and she knew that it was him. The warm eyes of the youngest Winchester bore into her own, confused and shadowed in doubt even as the strangled voice spoke out.

"Leah? Is…is that you?"

Ashamed to hear such a hoarse sound coming out of the boy's mouth, she quickly removed her foot from his throat and lowered her gun. She let him get to his feet, deciding she could at least give him some dignity back after all that. As he reached his full 6'4 status she noticed the lovely bright shading coming over his left cheek. It was a few inches long and a few inches wide and was oddly squared shaped, kinda like the end of her gun. Leah reached around and ran nervous fingers through her short, blonde locks. She was shifting her weight awkwardly from foot to foot and Sam took notice to it immediately. He didn't say anything and for that she was thankful.

"Sorry Sammy" she mumbled and pointed at the bruised.

A grin broke out across the man's face and within minutes he'd crossed the small space between them and scooped her up into his strong, muscled arms. Leah gasped as he held her to him and she heard him do the same when she came back with her own bone crunching embrace.

"God, what happened to you?" Sam's smile only widened as the two of them pulled away.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, no offense but you looked a lot different the last time I saw you."

Leah beamed openly and did a quick spin, showing off her new look. "You like? I've been working out a bit."

Sam nodded and rubbed at the bruise she'd inflicted open his face. "Yeah, a bit. You look…nice Leah. Your hair…you cut it…a lot of it."

Leah stopped spinning and her smile began to droop. Sam was still smiling at her but it looked almost forced now and his voice had taken on a more dejected quality.

"Sam…"

He forced the smile even more. "You just look at lot different. I didn't recognize you at first."

Leah nodded. "Yeah, I guess. It's been a while huh."

"Guess so."

* * *

The heavy veil of unconsciousness was lifted with a soft moan of discomfort. Air, soaked with the thick smell of must and humidity encompassed the room. Wood clawed desperately at the cement floor. Chair legs shifted back and fourth beneath the constant strain. Yards of broad, yellow rope, wound tightly about the wooden seat. Harsh shredded pieces of twine dug through the taunt flesh. Thin rivers of sanguine ran along muscled arms. Beneath soiled jeans bruises were forming. Hazel eyes fluttered and opened, taking in the basement.

Dean Winchester grunted beneath the cable tide about his neck. The cord had rubbed raw at the skin just below his Adam's apple. He'd put up a struggle and had suffered the consequences. The cord was attached to another section of rope that kept his arms restrained, pulling them awkwardly behind his back. Armpits pinched by the curve of the oak chair and wrists torn and red from the splintered wood. Every time he tried to free himself from the rope, the cord around his neck tightened, cutting off the his air supply even more.

Bloodshot eyes surveyed the small space. It had been night when he'd last fallen asleep or rather unconscious. Dean spied the far window, covered in layers of decay. Just a few beams of sunshine cut through holes in the dust, sending in enough light for him to fully view his surroundings. He wondered what day it was now. He'd fallen prey to the fatigue and pain one too many times that he'd begun to lose track of time all together. The only reason he knew it was now sometime early in the morning was because of the sunlight. Time seemed to disappear inside the basement. There was only early morning in his prison and every other time was darkness. Dark in the afternoon and dark in the evening.

The hunter felt his stomach churn beneath the bloodied t-shirt. His jacket had been stripped from him the moment he'd been caught and he hadn't seen it since. Although the air in the basement was often hot and muggy, even in early February, a cold chill still caught him off guard every now and then. He could feel the sweat gathering on his forehead. He hadn't been fed since the capture and water was a luxury in this new hell. His skin itched and burned and waves of nausea rocked through the young man's system. The venom had been fed directly into his veins. Dark green poison that made numbed his head and made his limbs feel as though they were being ripped from their sockets.

Dean arched his head backwards, grunting at the restriction the cord brough.t He needed to get out of there. Although the venom that had pickled his insides backwards and forwards would not kill him at the moment but anymore of it and he knew he wasn't walking out of the house alive.

Footsteps echoed through the cement cave. Dean's attention shot towards the ceiling. She'd returned home after her night of feeding. His heart sped, tripping over the rush of adrenaline. He jerked wildly in the chair until the rope tugged viciously into his flesh, cutting him once again. A groan fell from parched lips. The door above the long, stone staircase creaked open. Pale light hit the hunter's back, spotlighting him for his captor. Heeled shoes clicked against the stairs as she descended towards Dean. From out of the suffocating black he heard her voice, laced with sadistic pleasure and that menacing taunt.

"Honey, I'm home."

* * *

A/N: Okay so hope that was good. Much more action in the next chappie to come. A little note. Leah's obviously changed a bit as Sam pointed out. She's not quite as chubby and has gotten a bit involved in the boys line of work. This will come up more later on but just wanted that to be clear. She's not the same gal we knew before. Still Leah but a bit darker. :( Enjoy and please continue with the awesome feedback!!! 


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: **_Sorry for my long absence from this story. A mix of writers block and personal drama and I just couldn't be bothered. But I'm back! I missed Leah and hopefully this chapter is okay. I'm not too sure, I'm trying to get in the swing of things soooo bare with me. A little bit of self-loathing Leah but I promise more action in next chapter. More on Dean! Just be patient and the next installment will be up shortly. Also, check out my new story The Winchester Effect. I'll be updating that shortly as well. Another crazy idea I had soooo, follow this shameless plug and go check it out :D Oh and please review as always? Let me know you guys still want some Leah?  
_

**Disclaimer:** I only own what Kripke does not.

**Warning: May contain typos, mispellings, poor grammar ect. I was lazy and tired. :(**

Chapter 2:

**I am not a pretty girl  
That is not what I do  
I ain't no damsel in distress  
And I don't need to be rescued  
So put me down punk  
maybe you'd prefer a maiden fair  
Isn't there a kitten stuck up a tree somewhere **

**_Not a Pretty Girl/__Ani Difranco_**_  
_

Another night; another Joan Rivers infomercial. They were having a special on the shopping channel it seemed. Although the notion of watching the woman wave her products around for hours wasn't the most appealing thing to Leah Carlson she watched it just the same.

Charlie finished off the rest of the donuts she'd bought for herself and Sam hours in Dean's motel room. They'd gone through every scrap of paper the eldest hunter had collected. Tabloids, websites scribbled on post-it notes. Anything and everything had been thoroughly checked.

Now the rest of that research littered the unmade queen size bed. World Weekly News, in all its tabloid glory rested on Leah▓s lap. She sat on her knees, flipping pages until she came across one that was dog eared. Gruesome photos, sketched in harsh black and reds marked the article indicating the escalation of missing children in Kingston, Colorado. Two pregnant women had turned up dead in the last month, their unborn children both pretty much scrambled inside the punctured amniotic sac. Whatever remained left that was. The women had both pretty much been sucked dry, leaving only a few tossed remains sloshing along the amniotic fluid.

"Aswang" Leah scoffed, dropping one of the many news clippings.

None of this seemed to make sense. It didn't surprise her though. Since meeting the Winchester's nothing ever seemed to make sense but this? This new case took the cake. How Dean had managed to get nabbed by this creature was beyond her because Sam and her couldn't make heads or tails of the information he'd stumbled upon. It was all chicken scratch. Random stories that varied here and there. It was all too much.

"This make sense to you?"

Snatching a random tabloid, she held it out for the Newfoundlander to see. Mouth framed in thick icing, he stared at the images of the winged creature. No reply came. Instead he lapped the red jelly on his snout. Doggy dribble spraying the comforter.

Leah shook her head and gathered her research into a neat pile. Her cell phone vibrated across the nightstand. April Wine cut off Joan Rivers' rant on eye cream. The electronic device was one ring away from impacting with the floor when the young woman picked it up. One swift flick of the wrist, the phone opened.

"Yeah?"

"Leah?"

"Mmm hmm, Sam?"

"Yeah, it's me."

Leah wedged the phone between her ear and shoulder. Stepping through the motel room, neck bent at an awkward angle. She made to tidy the place up before Sam came over. Scooping the rest of the research and dumping it in one of the empty dresser drawers.

"Did you find anything useful?" she asked while giving her duffel a kick. It slid under the bed and out of sight.

"Some, not much. But I'm certain now that what were dealing with is an Aswang."

"Uh huh. And besides having cravings for pregnant women it is what exactly?"

Sam chuckled. The sound of papers ruffling filled the receiver.

"Aswang is a creature that originated from old Filipino folklore. It can take different forms, almost like a shape shifter. It tends to stick with women, both taking on the form of young and old."

Leah snorted. "Women and Dean, why am I not surprised?"

"They feed off the hearts and livers of both the living and dead. But, it seems the womb of a pregnant woman is the most ideal choice."

"Great, so were dealing with a womb sucking, shapshifter who has your brother somewhere? Do we at least know how to kill the damn thing?"

"I'm still looking. The stories vary a lot, it's hard to pinpoint it exactly."

"Awesome."

"Look, I'm going to be a bit longer at the library. I'll see you when I get done, okay?"

"Sure, I'll just sit here and watch Joan Rivers."

"What?"

"Nothing. Bye Sam."

Leah disconnected the call before the hunter could reply. The phone hit Charlie's bed. The dog glanced over a wide shoulder. Mouth filled with pastry and still chewing he shot Leah a glare.

"I wasn't aiming for you!" she defended.

The blonde shuffled towards the bathroom. She needed to clear her head. Too much boob-tube was making her go crazy. Not to mention this new hunt that had Dean deep within its clutches.

A nice, long shower before Sam's arrival would be just the ticket. Then she'd be settled enough to go over whatever new information the nerd pulled out.

* * *

_The blood was all consuming. A sturdy, wooden floor no longer lay situated beneath her feet. It was all just a pond of red. Thick, dark; life giving liquid. Her sneakers made awful noises. Squishing sounds that seemed to echo in the silence._

_  
Leah slipped her Chiefs Special from her waist band. Loaded. Safety off. She'd seen the splintered wood along the porch and then the open door. It was too late in the evening. No one left a door open that late, even in such residential areas as this._

_  
She'd practically flown across the threshold. Tearing across the foyer and into the living room. The drapes were shredded, masses of fabric on the floor. Bookshelves broken and furniture upturned. It was almost too much to take in. And yet she processed the mess in mere seconds. Moving across into the next room, her mind screaming for answers and shouting pleas to the Powers that Be._

_"Oh God, let her be okay."_

_The blood was all consuming. Specks of red against the drywall; deep inside the floors cracks. Leah followed the thin river of sanguine. The trail started at the mouth of the hall and ended in the kitchen. Her sneakers squished and her heart thumped. And her mouth whispered silent prayers. Begged for miracles._

_ Beyond the kitchen, along the stark white of linoleum she lay. Blood consuming her. Everywhere. The single, sodium bulb spotlighted her for all to see._

_  
Leah rushed, tripping as she reached her surrogate mother. Kneeling in her blood. Cold now that death had done its job. The young woman searched for a pulse. Checked for signs of life that would not be found. She noticed the bloodied gown. A wide spread of red over her abdomen from where the bullet had pierced her flesh. Where she had bled out._

_  
In the distance sirens rang, answering a call she did not remember making. Leah grab for the elder woman's hand and held it desperately in her own. Silent tears ran along the length of her cheeks. The bitter reality of loosing someone else, beginning to set in._

* * *

Leah bolted upright. Hands clenched viciously around a pillow. They shot towards the nightstand. To her handgun. Her protection against the evils of the world. She scooped it up and traced loving hands along the metal. 

Every night was a restless dream. Some of them she remembered and some of them were just a blur. Nothing she could make sense out of. That night had been no different. It didn't surprise her that she'd dreamt about it. It haunted her even when she was awake. Why should her dreams be any different?

She tucked the gun into her waistband and went in search of her duffel. The clock along the wall read eight. She wasn't sure when she'd fallen asleep but Sam had yet to show up it seemed. Did the library stay open that late? It didn't matter. She'd see him soon enough but until then she needed to calm her nerves for good.

The duffel came out from hiding. Her hands moved to the side compartment to where a bottle, wrapped in thick material lay. Waiting. She removed the bandaging and placed the liquor on her mattress before putting the bag back.

Charlie had woken by that point. Shooting annoyed looks at his blonde companion. Leah chose to ignore him. Getting back on her bed, she twisted the lid. A snort of disgust reached her ears. The Newfoundlander gave a low growl that resonated deep in his throat. It was a sound of protest and anger.

"Not now" she snapped.

The dog leapt from the bed and trotted, head hung low towards the bathroom. He disappeared into the darkness of the room and only the tips of his black paws stuck out in the doorway.

"You can pout all you want Charlie. I'm having a quick drink."

A deep sigh and then silence. Leah tossed the cap across the room, the small plastic dingy against the wall. She brought the bottle of Fireball to her lips and took a long gulp. Her throat burned, the taste of cinnamon pickling her liver as it hit bottom. She had to keep her stomach from turning the liquid back up and after a moment she was fine. It wasn't the best choice of liquor. It made her insides turn to jelly and by morning she usually ended throwing them up. But for that night it would do.

Leah took another drink. Her mind wandered to the day at the diner. To the days where she searched for her old life in this reality. Hoping and praying her Vancouver would still be there. She thought of that night that made all the ones to follow sleepless. Of the funeral she'd planned only to ditch a day before. Her mind wandered and she continued to drink. She remembered the nightmares. The forgetting of her old life she tried to instill within herself. How she'd tried to forget Sam and Dean. The forgetting was never ending and with another drink, she tried to forget some more.

It wasn't long until Sam was knocking at her door. Or perhaps it was? The shopping channel was playing a repeat of Joan Rivers once again so maybe it had been longer than she realized. All Leah knew was that she was getting through her supper quite fast. Liquid dinners were the best.  
The knocking became persistent and she realized someone was still standing outside waiting to come in.

"Leah, come on. Open up..."

"It is open!"

The youngest Winchester nearly fell into the room. Wielding white cartons of takeout in one arm and books in the other he still managed to grip two sets of chopsticks in his teeth. Sam dropped the items carefully on the dresser and went to close the door.

Leah watched him move to the food. He was opening two cartons and mixing the contents with the ends of the chopsticks.

"Sorry I took so long. I went back to get Dean's things out of the room."

"Mmmm hmmm" she said mouth around the bottle. She took another sip.

"And, being the gentleman I am, bought you some Chinese. Do you prefer chicken or beef?"

Sam held the dinners in his open palms, steam wafting up to meet his face. As he turned to meet her on the bed, he found she wasn't really paying attention to him. Her face was focused on the tv where Joan Rivers was spouting some kind of drabble about a miracle face lift in a bottle. Leah didn't seem to be one of those women who'd get caught up in such programming but she looked as though she was about to prove him wrong. And then she lifted the bottle to her lips and took a drink, eyes never leaving the screen.

The hunter eased forward. The glow of the television illuminated her drawn out features. Dark circles beneath blue eyes. Bloodshot and glazed, they stared ahead. He spotted the handgun wedged in her waistband.

"What are you drinking?" Sam placed the food on the bed next to hers.

Leah smirked at his nice guy antics. Who was he trying to kid anyway? She took a long, savoring sip. Let the liquid singe her tastebuds before swallowing.

"Welsh's Grape Juice. Want some?"

Sam shook his head. "No but I will have some Chinese. How about you? Maybe some food would do you good."

The petite blonde just laughed. Truth be told, she adored Chinese. She adored a lot of things really and not one of them matter. The bottle was still half full and her stomach had yet to object. From her point of view the Chinese food could wait. What a waste it would be to have pounds of greasy noodles and soya sauce absorbing all the alcohol. Nawe, she knew what Sam was doing. De-drunk her! That's what his genius brain was thinking he was doing. He was failing miserably.

Sam took a seat on Charlie's bed. From her upright position Leah could see him watching her. The two cartons of food situated comfortably in the man's lap. He wasn't doing anything but staring. It was unnerving.

"What? What, are you looking at?" she choked through a mouthful of booze.

"Nothing. Are you going to eat?"

"Not hungry."

"Leah come on. You probably didn't eat anything but those donuts today. Why don't you have some chop suey..."

"I said I'm fine!" Leah rolled out of bed, bottle in hand. "Give it to Charlie. He'll eat it."

The dog's nails clicked against the bathroom tiles. He made his way into the dimly lit room. Leah was hovering around the dresser. Around the corner of her mattress he saw the bottle. Swaying in the light grasp of her hand. His disgust was heard in a deep snort. A man he didn't recognized startled at the sound. Shaggy, brown hair and sitting tall on his bed. The dog parted his lips, showing gnarly teeth. He was ready to attack. To send this stranger on his way and then the smell. The delicious scent of beef and noodles. A greasy meal packed between the walls of thin cardboard.

"Charlie?" Sam questioned.

His only reply was the quick wag of a tail. The dark shape trotted eagerly towards the hunter, surprising him once more when the dog left the floor and took a seat on the bed beside him. Seated, tail swiping at the sheets, the beast was nearly the same height as Sam.

"I thought you had a dog, not a bear?" he called out.

The dog seemed to grin but it was hard to tell. His jowl was growing moist with the buildup of drool.

"Yup, he's some big dog."

Leah readied herself against the dresser. The room wasn't safe to move through yet. It kept tilting and spinning, making it difficult to even take a step without tumbling on her back.

"Leah?"

She heard Sam calling to her from Charlie's bed. Always that same whiny voice. That Mr. Nice Guy attitude was suffocating her. She needed to get out. Why wouldn't the room just stand still!

"Gotta...pee."

Swinging herself forward, hands out to catch her in mid fall, she left the safety of the dresser. The floor was strong, not moving anymore. The walls were doing their thing. Keeping the roof up and so on. Sam was doing his good guy thing on the bed. Watching her maybe in case the room startled to turn again, she didn't know.

Leah was nearing the bathroom. Almost there when her balance faltered and not because things were falling out of orbit but because Sam Winchester was tugging on her arm. No not her arm. He was tugging but it wasn't on her, it was the bottle she still had.

"Sam..."

"Just let me take it. You don't need it in the bathroom."

"Sam" she tugged back but it only impaired her ability to stand.

A hand steady her back.

"Leah, let go. It'll be here when you get back."

Her hands reluctantly released the glass neck. Sam sighed his thanks and fell back into the darkness. Leah was shuffling forward, the bottle gone, but not forgotten. She held the doorframe for support and slurred a "It better be here when I'm done" before closing herself inside the small room.

The shock of the fluorescent light halted the young woman. Leah fell back into the closed door. The wood thumping beneath the blow and the sound reverberating pain through her skull. Her stomach felt slightly nauseas but she figured it was from the Chinese food.

Eyes easing open, adjusting to the harsh light, she made her way through the bathroom. A small red purse, filled to the top with bathroom necessities lay open next to the tub. Inside the usual. Tampons, makeup, cotton balls. Some things not so usual like the inch and a half long blade (just in case) and the silver flask. She always kept two flasks. One with whiskey and one with holy water. The last salt and burn had forced her to take the holy water and in a drunken conclusion her mind set its sights on this flask. Sticking out of the bag and three quarters of the way full with whiskey.

A secret grin curled her lips. She removed the flask and took a long drawn out sip. Her mind vaguely questioned the weak potency of the liquor but she summed it up to the fact that she was probably too drunk to notice anyway.

From the other side of the door Sam was disposing of the rest of Leah's liquid dinner. Pouring the bottle's contents onto the asphalt outside the motel room. He tried to ignore how little there was left to get rid of. She'd made quite the dent and it was showing as he poured a less than half of the bottle out.

Finished and bottle making it's new home in the trash bin, the hunter joined his new best friend. The dark Newfoundlander was nearly finished his beef and noodles. Slurping two packages worth of soya sauce and spraying the black liquid across the bed sheets. Luckily for him, Sam wouldn't be sharing the room with Leah and her big dog. He chosen a room of his own just a few doors down.

"Well, glad someone appreciates me" the man quipped.

Charlie responded with a short bark, mouth full of noodles. He made quick work of the remaining food and slurped the carton clean of it's soya goodness. Sam only smiled and took a seat next to the shaggy mutt. Joan Rivers was still on and although it wasn't all that interesting, he watched it just the same.

He chewed his chicken teriyaki and waited for Leah to finish. After ten minutes and now holding an empty carton in his hands he wondered what had happened. Women were known to take their time in a bathroom but drunk women? He set the carton down on the floor. The Newfoundlander was staring at the bathroom door obviously thinking the same as he was.

The hunter walked quietly to the bathroom. He gave the door a few loud knocks. If Leah really was doing something he'd hate to be the one to disturb her. However when silence was all he received he knew she couldn't be doing much. Thoughts of her passed out in the bathtub or on the linoleum came to mind.

"Leah? Leah, it's Sam. I'm coming in okay?"

Still no answer. He couldn't wait any longer. This was getting serious. If she'd passed out and gotten sick in her sleep that would be a major no no. Or┘there were too many scenarios. He had to get in there. Luckily drunk women didn't normally lock the door behind them

Knob in hand, Sam pushed his way in. The sight he found wasn't one he'd been expecting. Drunk and perhaps unconscious, yeah, he'd pretty much assumed. Sitting, hunched over on a toilet, jeans wrapped about her ankles and asleep was not.

The young man stifled a chuckle and hurried towards the young woman. A silver flask was wedged between her knees. As he started to pull it out the blonde began to stir. Slowly at first but as consciousness returned her hand shot out, grabbing his neck. It was more of a punch then a death grip set to choke him.

Sam cupped her chin and brought her gaze to meet his open. Leah's eyes focused with time on his own. A smile formed on the hunter's lips. He had the flask and the woman's hand fell away. Her strength fled as she fell into his chest. Too tired and drunk to hold herself up.

"Mmmm tired" she mumbled.

"And drunk."

She laughed.

"Leah, were you drinking holy water?"

"Whiskey."

Sam sniffed the flask and took a taste. Nothing but water. A gentle shake of his head he dropped the container in the bathtub. It clanged noisily and Leah moaned.

"Come on. Lets get you to bed."

He grabbed her on either side of her arms. Blonde head hung, she cursed him out low in her throat. It was barely audible but he heard it. Ignored it and started to pull. The strength that came and threw him off balance; releasing her arms from his hands and sending him sprawling on his ass came out of nowhere.

Sam got to his feet and Leah was staring at him. Still drunk as ever but her face didn't hold the laughter it had a moment earlier. Her face was pulled in a frown, eyes welled with unshed tears. Even inebriated she seemed ashamed. Her head jerked to the side, away from Sam's questioning gaze. The gesture must have been too quick. It made her loose her balance. She tumbled off her porcelain throne and hit the linoleum knees first. Sam caught her round the back before her head could hit the bathtub.

The woman reached for her jeans and underwear. They still bound her ankles together. As the tears slowly broke through the dams, she tugged her clothes on. Sam steadied her so she wouldn't fall again. He gave her the dignity she needed and looked the other way even if she couldn't see it. When she'd finished the strength fled again. Her body sunk into his chest.

Leah shook against the muscular frame holding her. Her shoulders quaked and warmth touched her chilled arms. She couldn't help the tears that continued to fall. She didn't want to hold them in anymore.

"Where's my whiskey?"

The voice sounded almost childlike were it not for the heavy slur.

"That wasn't whiskey. It was holy water."

Leah sniffed.

"Fireball?"

"Gone" Sam replied.

She shuddered and the tears came harder. Wetter, slicking her face with salty emotions held in too long. She didn't want to deal with it anymore. Where was her car? She'd get some more booze despite Sam.

Leah forced herself away from the younger man, trying to get to her feet. Her world spun and two hands came out to pull her back down. She fell into them almost immediately. A pained cry shot from her mouth. She kicked at the wall with her left foot but Sam didn't release her.

"It's okay" he told her and she wanted to laugh but instead she cried.

It wasn't okay. Nothing was okay. Didn't he know that? She was never going home. Dean was gone and her life sucked. She had nothing left to give anyone and no one to catch her if she fell. She was alone.

"No" she slurred. Leah tried to pull free. "No, it's not okay."

She wanted to scream it to the world. Wanted to punch him in his puppy dog eyes because things were never going to be okay. Not ever again. How could they be? After everything that had happened. After what she'd done.

"Leah..."

"No Sam. You're wrong."

She pulled some more. He tightened his hold.

"How? How am I wrong?"

"You weren't there."

"Leah..."

"No, let go."

"No."

His arms came around her chest. She lost herself against him. Sam used his strength to keep her still, forcing her to submit. She couldn't move an inch. Only her head swung lazily from side to side and then after a few seconds that too stopped.

"Leah, please. Talk to me."

A sniffle. Sam saw the tears hit his jeans. Leah never raised her head, didn't even acknowledge that he'd spoken. Her body trembled as the tears became more rapid.

"Its might fault."

It was so quiet he almost missed it.

"What is?"

"Missouri."

"Leah, no..."

"I left her. I wanted to find my home. My old life. And it killed her Sam. I killed her"  
"It was a break-in. Leah, you couldn't have stopped it."

"That's an excuse Sam!"

Her head lifted but her body shook harder. She was fighting for control and failing.

"I shouldn't have gone. If I'd stayed...I'd of been there...Dean, he wouldn't be gone either."

"He isn't gone. He's too stubborn, remember?"

She cried and shook her head.

"What if? All because I can't let go? I should have stayed to see him. If I was in Lawrence. If I'd just listened she'd be here. He wouldn't have gone on this hunt. I┘"

Sam wouldn't hear it anymore. Dragging the young woman to her feet, he pulled a thin arm around his neck and helped to get her standing.

"Leah, you're going to sleep this off. Okay?"

"I'm sorry Sammy" she slurred. "I'm sorry"

"You are a very depressing drunk, you know that Leah Carlson?"

There was no reply. Sam turned and caught his companion, head on his shoulder and eyes closed. Asleep.

"Come on. Let's get you to bed before another chick flick takes over."


End file.
